


Ramblings of Those Who Are in the Background Constantly Wondering How All the Main Characters Usually Manage to Survive the Longest Despite All Their Bullshit

by ColtsAndQuills



Series: Ramblings of Those Who Are in the Background Constantly Wondering How All the Fucked-Up Main Characters Always Manage to Survive Longer Despite All Their Bullshit [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:16:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColtsAndQuills/pseuds/ColtsAndQuills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because nobody wants to be the red coat, the storm trooper, the unsung extra. Giving voice to all those faces in Supernatural we never get to hear from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ramblings of Those Who Are in the Background Constantly Wondering How All the Main Characters Usually Manage to Survive the Longest Despite All Their Bullshit

I train hellhounds.

What, you think they obey by instinct? Cosmic abracadabra? Hellllll no. Stuff the manic energy of a goldendoodle into the body of a magically steel-enforced doberman, toss in a temperament that makes Cerberus seem like Lassie in comparison, and that's what I've got to work with.

And don't think just because they're not alive that makes them easier to care for. Fact of life, kiddies — if something goes down one way, it's gonna pop out the other end sooner or later.

Don't even get me started on the dog breath.

I used to hate animals when I was a human. Maybe that's why I'm stuck doing this for eternity. Ah, well. I guess it could be worse. It’s better than pushing a boulder up a hill for the rest of existence.

But just barely.

"Who's a good girl? That's right, who's daddy's sweetums? Going to eat up those snot-nosed, fashion-challenged prats, aren't you? Tear them up good until they regret ever tossing me out of their pathetic little boy band, isn't that right? Choosing that squinty, self-flagellating prick over me. Who needs them? Not me. Not when I have a beautiful girl like you in my life."

That right there is the biggest bitch of them all.

What? No, not the one making an embarrassment of himself with the sadistic baby talk. That's Crowley, aka, the King of Hell.

I'm talking about the mutt at his side. Queen of the pack. Her most royal pain, Juliet.

I've lost more meat suits because of that damn hound. Every other week she either eats my hand, tears out my throat, or attempts to rip me a new one. Literally. I'll leave it up to you to figure out why I stopped choosing male meat suits soon after being assigned this job.

“Oi, you.” Crowley snaps his fingers at me. He doesn’t even snap at that decaying dog, but he snaps at _me_.

“Sir?” I try to meet his stare, but it’s kind of hard to take my eyes off Juliet when she’s licking her lips and eyeing my shin like it’s a drumstick.

“Take her and a few of the others out for some hunting. Get them excited. When I get the Winchesters rounded up, I want the pups to be feeling playful.”

He doesn’t wait for me to reply, of course, just sets off on his cranky way. A group of four others trail in his shadow, each looking completely miserable. I don’t blame them. If they’re being dragged out to do battle with the Winchesters, odds are, this will be their last mission. Better them than me.

Like I said, this job sucks.

But it could be worse.

 

 


End file.
